Dredd 3D: A-Day
by Blue-PaperTiger
Summary: Dredd's taking another cadet out on assessment. Another day, another rookie. Hopefully thing's will go smoother this time round, right? Rated M for violence and swearing, and possible later chapters (just in case) R&R please!
1. Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own anything about this except the rookie.

Lucy Grimm is a little fan reference to Doom (both games and film(and novelisation)). This is based in the 2012 film verse but I will be using the comic verse to fill in any blanks not covered by the film. I loved the film, it introduced me to 2000AD comics and Dredd properly and I'm praying for sequels, lots and lots of sequels.

Also go check out 'Aftermath: Dredd 3D' by toungetiedandterifide on here, it's great and inspired me to start up writing again (after 6 YEARS!) and on that note, please bare with me! This story is not beta-ed! I have a beta (thanks to my lovely Mooch) but the chapters I upload will not have been checked over. I **will** go over and fix mistakes etc. once it's finished and beta-ed.

There will be unannounced POV changes but not too many hopefully, but they shouldn't be to difficult to pick out.

Anyway, hope you like it, please R&R!

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Chapter One

_The world shone, everything was too sharp at the edges. No, too blurred, unfocused beyond recognition. I was flying. Soaring high over the city, pulled up by a thousand tiny hands. No, falling, too slowly but falling, through black clouds and rays of sunshine, feeling each droplet of rain freeze and then evaporate on my bare skin. I was naked. Wrapped in too many layers of silk; smooth, rough, caressing, tearing at my skin until there's only bone but still stroking across flesh like feathers or razor blades or shards of glass. Shredding. Tickling. I was frozen, chilled to the core. No, burning, melting, pouring away down rusty drain covers onto ice and embers. Floating, solidifying, taking shape then dissolving again. Over and over. Never ending. No, never beginning. Paused, trapped in a loop that wasn't there. Never was. _

_**Who? Are? You? **_

_No voice but every voice. Screaming and whispering and hissing and lulling. Nails gliding and dragging across no skin, through no hair, over no eyes. _

_**What? Is? Your? Purpose? **_

_Fingernails peeling and curling off, ripping from rotting flaking skin. No, raw and fresh and too new, still bright pink but grey and wrinkled. Open mouth, no lips, torn away, chewed off. Twisting tongue, too far and snapping, but no sound, only a flapping, hollow jaw. _

'_I. Don't. Can't..' _

_Searing flesh being grated away by millions of toothless mouths. A baby's face, hollow, bleeding eye sockets .A familiar baby, a known face. Those stolen eyes should be hazel. No green. _

'_Cas? ANDERSON! Lemme out!'_

* * *

My eyelids shot open and my held in gasp finally broke free from my too dry lips once I'd managed to actually pry them apart. **I hated being Anderson test dummy. **

But I promised her I would be. Two weeks, felt like years but it had only been two weeks. Helping her train, focus, enhance her psychic prowess so that she could better use them in the field and for interrogation, still or on the move. There was a thin layer of cold sweat across my brow. My head throbbed with it all. I sat up slowly and rub my temples, turning and kicking my legs over the lab table's edge and leaning my head down into my hands more, letting myself hunch over warily.

'_This is your preliminary assignment cadet, your assessment day's coming soon but this is just as important. No, more so._' So I agreed to help and now my skin was crawling and my legs shaking, thigh muscles vibrating with adrenaline and long suppressed fear made fresh, pulled into the conscious from deep inside. "I think I'm improving! That was only half the time, right?" I can just manage a jolting nod, my stomach was writhing and wanting out from its place at the back of my throat and I dared a swallow, hoping to push the bile back down. Glancing up I can see her, pacing and going through the last of her _in field_ motions; drawing her lawgiver, aiming, checking round nonexistent corners, opening her medkit. She was smiling, proud of her progress. **Smiling?!**

I look back at the floor as another wave of nausea slides up my chest, following the tile edges, focusing on the ones directly below my feet, finding patterns, the tiny marks and stains in the grout in the hopes that it'll hold me together, at least until I can collapse in my own bunk. **Puke in my own toilet**.

Once I finally hop sheepishly off the table still intent on taking every detail of the floor to heart and get my feet planted she's staring at me, watching. I can feel her eyes on my clammy face, feel the tiny mental tendrils shyly, cautiously reaching out to my tender mind."Don't." I scrunch my face up for a second at how harsh and raw my barked voice shot out, my mouth opens to try a gentler repeat but clamps shut. "Sorry Lu. I... I didn't mean to..." her voice trails off weakly.

**She knew she'd pushed too far. Gone too deep**. She knew she'd left my mind a burning, aching mess and that it was taking my everything not to vomit or pass out. Or shoot her. "It's fine Cas. Just... remember I've got mental limits even if you don't." A half hurt nod as I make eye contact, fix her with a sharpness I was trying not to mean. '_This will not affect your friendship with Anderson. It could very well strengthen it._'

Finally I push myself away from the table and take a few trembled steps before gaining the confidence in my legs to walk for the door, patting her shoulder as I pass but never pausing, never slowing. I needed to move, walk, find clearer air, clearer thinking space. She walks beside me for a while, sensing my mental doors sliding back into place, closing down or barring the way for the unnecessary , the unwanted. Each step brought back my sense of stability, leading me out of the dark, cloudy abyss that was _that place_. I hated feeling that open, that vulnerable, _that fragile_. Mental locks clicked back into place, the last mental chains wrapping round anything that might wriggle free, unruly and jagged as I push the Justice Hall doors open and walk out into the blazing sunlight. **Soak it up kiddo. Take a breath. A deep breath and then let it out**. When I finally feel her hand on my shoulder I can look at her with a genuine smile, the mental anguish of the past two hours forgotten.

" You out on patrol now, right?"

"Yeah. Lu?" A pause. She seems almost uneasy with whatever question she has sat behind her teeth, wanting out but waiting patiently. I wait too. "Do you know who you'll have assessing you yet? Or when?"

"No and no. Chief Judge mentioned Lex awhile back but that's not exactly an option any more, is it?"

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. Maybe they've already lined someone else up but haven't had time to arrange it properly?" I shrug it off and nod blankly. It seemed such a redundant thing to say.

"He was dirty Cas. I don't want assessing by anyone that shitty. I need to know I've got an honest Judge watching me so I can get an honest pass. Or fail."

There was a long pause. I didn't expect her to declare that there was no doubt I'd pass, nor that I was already a fail waiting to be told. I wasn't special, my grades were barely above average, my prowess at best was to simple keep myself afloat amongst the other cadets. I didn't have an area of expertise, nothing that I particularly excelled in, but I wasn't useless either. **Just average**. We both snapped to attention at the approach of her temporary partner, although I was a little stiffer than her. After all, she knew him better, all I had was reputation to work off. She'd certainly spent more time working with him. Spent the best and worst twenty one hours of her life with him. Her assessment in fact. He came to a halt in front of them, barely acknowledging me as he nodded at Anderson. A nod to question her readiness and affirm the start of eighteen hour street shift. Just a nod, and then he's turned and walking back down the steps, Anderson slapping my arm before slipping into step behind him. **Judge Dredd. Mega City One's best judge. Unbending, incorruptible, unrelenting. **Formidable as fuck.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

_Where the hell am I? I was stood alone in a long empty corridor, it was wavering in and out of focus, blurring and bending on the edges of my peripherals. My feet felt like they were being sucked down into the floor, as if I was walking on thick wet moss. My lawgiver was drawn and ready in my hands, my uniform leather creaked as I began to walk. My boots steps didn't make a sound but echoed back to me from far down the corridor. The world shimmered for a moment, sparkling with too much colour before snuffing out, the fluorescent lights flickering then going off. Darkness. A deafening silence encompasses my head, works into my helmet and screams my ears bloody. There's hands all over me, pulling me in every direction and nowhere._

_**Are you lost Lucy?**_

_The lights snap back on and I'm still in the corridor, still alone. I pull the helmet from my head and let it fall to the floor, ignoring it as it cracks and bounces silently on the concrete floor. Keep walking, keep moving. Find the exit. Or backup. My abandoned helmet melts into the ground, bubbling and sizzling sounds echoing off the walls. I'm moving down the corridor without taking a step, it carries on for a lifetime. Tired now. _

_**Are we getting anywhere?**_

_I'm moving too fast. No, too slow. Everything was blurring in the centre while staying focused at the edges. The corridor carries on endlessly in front and behind me. Empty, always empty. But there are corridors to my left and right now, only two steps in front of me. I don't have time to think too much, training kicks in, instinct. I'm against the wall sidestepping, edging towards the corner, grip tightening on my gun. A deep breath. I'm ready. One... Two... Three. A sharp turn around the wall, gun held up ready to fire. Hesitation. A silhouette. The back of a man, a judge._

_**Whose here? Who else has crawled into your head?**_

_There was a tinge of humour to her voice and I don't like it. The judge shifts on his feet. He's tall, head tilted down, his armour padded back heaving slowly as he breathes steadily. Who? A single step towards him, that's all I can manage before he's turning on me, too fast to make out anything, any detail. But too slow, he's not moving at all, still just stood there with his back to me. My back's slammed against a closed door, a leather gloved hand at my neck, powerful fingers digging into flesh. My neck forcibly changing shape under his grip. Feet dangling, barely a glancing touch to the floor. No choked breath, no air but no burn from my empty lungs. That face, only a hairs breadth away from my own, grimacing, snarling, lip curling up on a rigid stoic jaw. That familiar face, twisting out of focus, flickering. Was I blinking? Are my eyes twisting? The door I'm pinned against moves, a too loud click as the internal latch shifts and the doors moves. Only an inch, but then it falls away from behind me. I'm falling. He's still got hold of my neck but I'm falling._

* * *

"What the fuck was that?!" Is the first thing I hiss out, even before I open my eyes or sit up from that same cold metal table. I hear her shift around in the room uncomfortably. **Try a calmer tone Grimm **"Cas? That was... different. What'd you do?" Sitting up, swinging my legs over the table and hopping off, my body felt fine, no exhaustion, no lack of energy. Almost like I have too much energy in fact. My eyes are darting around the familiar room, stopping once I see her. She's uncomfortable, already next to the door half turned away from me. "Cas?"

"No- Lu! Just- Don't, it's fine... nothing. Just..." She shifts on her feet again. What did she see in there? I'm striding towards the door, towards her before I can think it through properly. Grab hold of her shoulders and turn her sharply to face me before I can think it through. "What. Did. You. See?" It clambers out of my mouth and flies at her demandingly, trying to sound like an order. Her eyes flit around, trying to find something to focus on, try to avoid mine. **How are YOU uncomfortable? You've spent the last month and a half rabidly squirreling away in MY head!** Her brown eyes snap up to lock with mine, **she heard that**. There's a passing moment, as a thin mix of indignation, frustration and something else chase each other across her expression... embarrassment maybe?

"I- I thought I'd try a different approach... see what your head might do if I tried convincing it a scenario was real. How it'd react."

"Right, and?"

"Nothing. It didn't work." There she goes again, trying to avoid my gaze as it bores into her questioningly.

"Anderson. What did you see that- that... that's shit you up so much!?" My patience was starting to fray. **It's my head, why can I not know what's in my own head?**

"It's not that. It's just..." My eyebrows rise in anticipation to the rest of her sentence. "... it's almost like, you don't." Pausing again, but now I'm more patient with her, I can see her trying to put the words together right, phrase it right. "Do you not want to be assessed tomorrow?"

**Well that was not what I was expecting.** My mouth drops open a little, expression softening in surprise. Admittedly I was scared and excited as hell, hadn't really slept since I'd been told at the beginning of the week. I didn't feel ready, but no one ever does. I'd been considering every possible worst case scenario, but everyone does. I was nervous to start and anxious to finish, but how was that different from any other cadet before the big _A_ day? She could see me thinking, see the confusion playing behind my distant eyes. "Is it cos of _who's_ assessing you, maybe?" That got my attention to snap back to her and now. The confusion and thoughts dropped like an anchor into thick mud. My expression smoothes out to blankness without my meaning it to, I was shutting off again. _'Your assessment is on Thursday cadet Grimm. We can confirm that it'll be Judge Dredd that's taking you out. We'll soon know if you're a judge. Or not. Good luck.'_

"Why'd you say that?" My hands drop from her shoulders and I step back, straightening up, a part of me wanting to reach of the door handle and walk away but my want for an explanation to her reasoning keeping me planted firmly in place. All that shows of my inner conflict is a slight twitch from my toes.

"Well he... he popped up in your head while I- while we were working. I-I didn't pull that up. You did." Her face twitches, barely visible but I see it. "You were doing all that, at the end... I wasn't doing that. You were."

**Leave. Now**. My fingers grip and work the door handle and I'm gone. I don't stop when I hear Anderson calling after me, I don't stop when I feel glances from passing Judges and Justice workers. I don't stop, even after I'm down the Hall steps and passed the gates.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

**Why had I bolted?** I'd marched aimlessly for nearly an hour before coming round, finally seeing where I'd walked to, my fogged up brain finally clear. Middle of the street, middle of nowhere. No, district 10 maybe? After mentally chastising myself, I'd turned myself right back around and marched my sorry ass all the way back to the Halls, ordered myself to go straight to my bunk and forced myself to lie down. **Now sleep.**

That was four hours ago. Not a single second of sleep, only fitfully tossing and turning on my bunk. No matter how tight I screwed my eyes closed I would not, could not, sleep. In six hours I'd be starting my assessment and my body knew it. Every muscle was tense, buzzing with anticipated adrenaline. Maybe I should give up and just start getting ready slowly. Very slowly. **No, you need sleep, your body needs sleep even if your head doesn't**. So again, I close my eyes and lie there, pulling the sheets up and over my head with a huffed sigh. Why was I so anxious? Anxious about the assessment yes, but why so anxious about Dredd being the assessor? He was a good judge. **The best**. I knew if I could get a pass from him I was definitely judge material. Or I'd be one of the one-in-five. Last year I would have been so damned happy to know he was my assessor, but now? **Why?**

"Maybe you don't want your assessment to be as rough as mine?" I'm sat bolt upright, chest heaving with surprise as I stare at her. She's trying to suppress a smile but I can see it tugging at the corner of her lips, even in the near dark of the room as the sheets drop from my face.

"Dammit Cas!" I'm hissing again, rubbing the balls of my hands against my forehead and hunching over. "You have got to be less sneaky!" Now she's lost it and laughing as quietly as she can, shoulders bobbing up and down and a hand clamped over her mouth. I have to smirk at that, I always liked making her laugh, even if it was at me. I cross my legs in front of me and sit waiting for her to calm down, the morose expression settling back onto my face. She falls silent as she sees me chewing on my nail absentmindedly, staring through her into nowhere.

"Can't sleep huh?" **Obviously.**

"Too... too anxious I guess." I frown when I finally notice I'm chewing on my nails and drop my hand down into my lap and lock fingers with my other idle hand.

"Is it general nerves? Or cos it's Dredd assessing you?" **No pussy-footing around the point then, huh? Good.**

"I dunno... maybe." A pause to sigh and think momentarily, both heavy. "It's just, he- he doesn't usually assess. Chief requested he assess you but that was special circumstances and all." I glance her way, just to check she understands my meaning and not offended by it. She's simply nodding and watching me, unblinking. "So... what the fuck's he assessing me for?" Finally saying it out loud seems to click it into place in my head. **I'm nothing special, so why the choice of assessor?** "He doesn't normally do assessments. Right?"

Again with the unblinking stare, the subtle nodding. **Speak!**

"I dunno. Maybe they thought, with all the help you've been giving me, that you deserved a decent assessor?"

"Come on! You know they don't give a shit about that sorta thing. We both do. I'd just get one of the regulars like anyone else." **So why NOT one of the regulars? **

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Thank you for the review so far!

The next few chapters will be uploaded pretty snappish as I've already written them but I'll try to keep them evenly spaced out so it's not overloading.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

**Put your uniform on. Great, done. Now double check your lawgiver. Done**. I'd been pacing back and forth for the best part of an hour. Anderson had managed to force me to sleep for a few hours but it did nothing to settle my brain. I had nightmares.

Now I'm waiting near the entrance for Dredd to arrive and trying not to wear a trench down into the floor. **Anxious?** No, it's gone way beyond that now. I'm just numb now, distant, ready. I hear the _plink plink_ of boots steps coming down the stairs and toward me. It was early in the morning but the Halls where as busy as ever. **It never stops**. I do a couple more repetitions of walking back and forth, back and forth before I get myself to stand still. I need to save my energy, focus on the next eighteen hours. Probably the longest eighteen hours of my life.

"You ready rookie?" It sounded so cliché but Anderson was right, his voice really was like a gravelly bear. My back's to him, I need to face him, acknowledge him, but my hands are shaking, my back stiff. **So sick of being snuck up on, well at least now I know where Anderson got it from.**

"Yes sir**." Holy shit he looks pissed!** **I've not even done anything yet**.

"You know the drill?"

"Yes sir."

He marches past me, heading for the doors. "Good. Assessment starts now." I keep pace with him, only a step behind. **He even walks angry**. We don't lose stride even after stepping out the doors and into torrential rain. We keep walking, straight for our bikes and mount up. I'm staring out at the watery grey haze the downpours creating that I barely register what he's growling, something about crime statistics. Next thing I'm doing is running my eyes down a list, scanning for which one I want to start with. Double homicide? Possible DUI crash? Robbery? Assault? **Decisions, decisions**. The list seems to just keep growing and growing, new listings popping up every second as I try to come to a decision. His eyes weren't on me yet but I could tell he was getting impatient. **Just pick one already!** My finger shoots out and presses one before I can register it and vanishes off the screen before I can read it. **Ah crap**.

"Control, we'll take the break in at district nine Swarovski jewellers." **Okay, so I pick the robbery, that's not too bad**. He pulls off ahead of me, revving his bike into action with ease, like the second nature it is to him. I follow close behind, weaving in altering patterns to him through the perpetual traffic. We're weaving and making our way to the crime scene for who knows how long, it felt like forever and nothing at all, but we never let up, never slowed down despite the rain. Before my brain has much time to panic on the realisation that I'm finally doing my assessment, **with Judge Dredd**, we've pulled up outside a crowded little shop. **Vultures gathering already**. He sneers at the back of the nosey onlookers as he nudges the kickstand of his bike down with the leather clad steel tow of his boot and dismounts.

"Bike. Crowd control." Once I hear my bike's computerized female bike speak up I follow suit, stepping into stride next to him. His walk is almost lazily but he covers ground fast and the crowd part, some sixth sense warning them of the power of this man and moving them.

Stepping inside, I shake my head a little, flicking droplets haphazardly in all directions, relieved that the constant rattling of rain on my helmet has ceased, even if momentarily. The shop worker, possibly the owner, came waddling over out of breath and clearly shook up. This must've been a fresh case, must've just happened, the blast marks in the walls from high powered weaponry were still warm, still smoking a little. He's a short man, thin to the point of skeletal, with bright disorientating coloured clothes, **fashionable I suppose**. I suppress my sneer, barely. He's babbling at Dredd in a too fast and too high pitched voice, panic drowning out any chance of me listening with all my attention. Instead I focus on the shop, let my eyes run over the displays; mostly intact, the walls; painted garish colours but untouched, the floor; littered with smashed glass and wood splinters. Something **about the wooden splinters...**

"Thoughts rookie? Whatta we got?"

We're stood stopped in front of the main buy-and-sell counter. A quick scan, barely thirty seconds but just enough to get information from. "Sir. Perps came though the front door, quiet, no forced entry. Blast marks are at head level: warning shots, intimidation tactics. They planned for the best items, most price efficient. But one got sloppy, or greedy and smashed the counter top, snatched a handful." Leaning down to inspect the remains of the display counter, I see the faintest scratches in the showy velvet shelf lining, fingernails. "Possible DNA or prints?" I glance up at him then straighten up and take a tiny step back, giving him space to get his own closer eyes on. My eyes fix on the shop owner under my visor before roaming the shop again, coming to a stop once they align with the splinters, narrowing as my mind calculates. "Any surveillance?" Dredd's straightened up and glancing around the shop before talking to the shop owner again but I'm definitely not listening now My head tilts of its own volition, from a natural gesture of thought and curiosity, before I've even realised it I'm crouching down and reaching for a splinter, picking it up to look it over. I can feel a frown entrench itself into my forehead as I look from the splinter to the front door behind me. '_No forced entry.'_ **So where had the wood come from?** The displays were entirely made from metal and glass. The walls were painted concrete. I look back down to the floor, at the pattern the shattered glass and wooden chunks have made, trying to make sense of it, to see how it had fallen so I could attempt to mentally hit the rewind button. My head lifts as I look towards the back of the shop, the rest of me following suit and striding cautiously towards the dimmed area.

"Rookie?" There's no edge of irritation in his voice that there had been not ten seconds ago as he questioned the shop owner for a fuller account of the incident.

"Splinters sir." A puzzled silence. Puzzled, and exasperated but waiting. My whole being stays focused on the back area even as I lift my hand that still held the wood splinter for him to see. "The glass smash pattern indicates the perps lanced down at the displays with the butt of their guns and pulled toward themselves, spraying it outwards behind them. But there's no wood involved in the displays, and the patterns all wrong-"

"They left through the employees and deliveries door! The back door!" Again with that panicky shrill voice. He got double the glare, for interrupting and for being so stupidly slow in giving over such important information. **Asshat**.

"How long ago?" It wasn't a threat, but the controlled frustration and anger that was construed in his demanding tone were still felt. The man still manages to hesitate though.

"Do you not want your property retrieving?" I let a little too much sarcasm slight into my question, but it worked so far as in pulling the man into focus. Indignation played across his face for the briefest of moments but fear ultimately overruled it, fear of the two annoyed judges in his shop, fear of not getting his precious sparkly trinkets back.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago! My assistant, Amanda, called you people as soon..." We're not listening as we move, both heading for the rear of the shop. Guns drawn, breath steady, we turn a corner to find the remains of the back door hanging down its hinges. **Some security**. Training takes over as I press myself against the wall next to the door, peering round, scanning for movement. I wait. Silence, only the normal ambient of the city to be heard, that and the shop owner still twittering on about his damned stolen merchandise. Dredd slaps my shoulder lightly and I step out and around, covering one half of the thin side street as he covers the other.

"Clear."

"Clear." Guns lower. We turn towards each other slightly but remain vigilant. "Can't have got far. This way leads back out to the main road and that way leads to a complex of alleys and dead ends. Options rookie?"

"There were no signs of a getaway vehicle, the owner or assistant would've reported it. Or one of the gawk- members of public would've seen something." **Close kiddo, close**. Looking over the ground for a moment, I then turn to aim myself down the street, away from the main road and into the alleys. "No signs of motorcycle tracks. Likely went on foot into the alley complex in the hopes to lose any pursuit." He's already angled himself towards the alleyways as I finish speaking, gun still in hands ready. I register the tiniest of nods from him and then we're walking, purposeful long strides carrying us quickly into a much darker and dirtier part of the city, **a more accurate part of the city**. It spiders off into four, no five different crowdedly miniscule alleyways. One's visibly a dead end, a stumpy little side street, filled with refuse, both material and human in nature. **What now?** Training dictates that we split up, but even then there's still a fifty percent chance of choosing the wrong one and the perps getting an even bigger head start on us. Turning my head to him, I can see him glancing from one alley to another. "Sir?"

Silence again. I keep still and quiet as he contemplates the options. "Well however we do this rookie there'll always be a fifty percent chance of missing them..."

"And there isn't time to wait for backup. So we pick one and split up." **And hope**. He nods curtly then starts striding down the furthest alley to the left. I hesitate for only a moment before taking the central alleyway.

I don't move slowly, but similarly I refuse to rush head first into a fight with my first real perps, alone. My first real fight for that matter, alone. **Hold on, how's he supposed to assess me if he's not with me**? I snort quietly as I swear mentally but keep moving, gun ready. My eyes shift continuously, roaming over rusted fire exit ladders and piss stained graffiti covered walls, over piles of trash and mumbling vagrants. My nose wrinkles in the most miniscule of amounts as it's bombarded with the fouler of the city's smells. Training ebbs away as the alley remains empty, giving way to unchecked thoughts.

_You're alone, this is your assessment day. And you are alone. Pursuing an unknown quantity of well armed perps, at best a minimal of three._ **They aren't expecting to be pursued, not so soon anyway.** _One-in-five Lu, one-in-five. It's not like you're ever gonna be at Dredd's level._ **Not all of us have to be**. _You'd live longer. _Grip tightens on a lawgiver, leather creaking slightly. Eyes dart back and forth behind a dark visor. **I don't care.** _Yes you do, you're scared shitless of becoming just another cadet statistic, another cautionary story, another lump of meat_. **I **_**can**_** do this.**

A distant sound catches my attention and silences my internal argument. I freeze, my lawgiver instinctively raised to aim in the direction of the sound even as my ears strained to indentify the noise. **No skittish trigger finger. No presumptions. Could be an innocent**. The sound bounces off the close walls of the filthy alleyway towards me. Sounds of footsteps, walking quickly away. And talking, barked harsh tones. Arguing maybe? Might be the perps reinforcing a pecking order. My feet go into action again, swiftly and as silently as possible moving towards the source of the noise. My mind hesitates as I move, but never losing stride or purposefulness. **Should I radio him? Not yet, not yet. Dunno if it is the perps yet. Confirm then radio if possible**. I keep close to the wall, almost side stepping along it as I get closer, close enough to make out words and voices. The alley curves sharply to the left. I draw myself near to the corner and crouch, letting one knee silently touch the ground as I lean towards the corner to peer around it. Four perps. Three in body armour. All carrying weapons; the three in armour have machine guns, heavy duty, with shotgun under barrel, while the fourth has a much lighter machine gun. **Well somebody's the runt of the litter, aren't they?** Each one has a duffel bag slung over their shoulder or back except one, the bag as ripped open and contents escaped all over the alleyway ground. They have their backs to me, the one whose bag ripped currently bent down scooping up the unruly jewellery and stuffing it back into the remains of the gutter duffel. His fellows don't move to help him, instead just toss him a roll of tape and leave him to fix his own mess. I slowly pull myself back round the corner, leaning back against the wall as I considering my options. **Perps too close to radio Dredd without them hearing. Too well armoured and armed to take on alone without sustaining injury, even if minimal. Can't let them get back on the move, reduces likelihood of apprehension. Need to give myself an advantage beyond the simple element of surprise. Gas grenade? Stun? **I heard the scream of tape being pulled and stretched out. I'm running out of time, losing my chance to take them down while they're guards down. I take a long steady breath, then slowly stand and roll my shoulders. Adrenaline pumps through my system making everything sharp, giving everything an edge. **First non-sim combat Lu, let's see if you can**.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The rain's still hammering down, mutely bouncing off my helmet as my head tilts down a little, listening. The downpour has lessened the sticking power of the tape causing the unfortunate perp to curse under his breath. The layer of water covering the ground allow my boot to slide out, bringing me smoothly around the corner, gun raised and ready. "Don't move! You are suspected of ARV and unlicensed weapons. The charge is minimum twenty years in the cubes. Drop your weapons, down on your knees and interlock your fingers behind your head." No one moves. They just stare, a cross between contempt, over confidence and fear mingle on their faces. "You have ten seconds to comply. Resisting arrest will add another fifteen to that sentence." My grip tightens on my gun, my top lip curls up a little into a soundless snarl. The one on the ground lets go of his dropped bounty and pushes his gun towards me, complying with my order. But the others remain motionless. **Don't!**

There's a split second when everything slows to a near stop and silence settles peacefully over the dim wet alleyway. I know they've had the decision to resist. I see holds constrict on weapons. Sharp angry eyes narrow, a fighting focus coming over stubborn minds. The single blast from a shotgun rings out but my head's already moved, I barely feel the breeze of the thing as it flashes past me. I'm down and rolling to the side, sending out my own two rounds at the first shooters kneecaps. He slaps to the floor unceremoniously, screaming in pain, weapon and bounty all forgotten. That's one. I use the momentum of my roll to bring me to my feet again, aiming at the remaining two, ignoring the perp that's complied with me already. My lip's curling again, an audible growl leaving it this time. "Drop the fucking weapons. Now!" A quiet moment, thick with pent up tension before it's released, along with the weapons. They clatter to the ground and I'm moving, lawgiver still trained on them in one hand, the other reaches for the cuffs at my belt. "Down. Now. Hands behind head." They do as they're told and I'm behind them now, ripping the duffel bags from their shoulders and letting them drop behind me before I'm holstering my gun and yanking hands down and round behind them and cuffing. **That wasn't so bad**. Only a few minutes pass but I have them all cuffed and faced, pressed against the wall.

"Control. Lock in on my GPS. We have four bodies for the cubes, thirty years, one needs a medic." I don't let myself jump at his sudden appearance behind me, but my heart just about kicks itself from my chest, my leather jacket and armour seeming to be the only thing keeping it in place.

Almost instantly the radio chats back to him. "Roger that Dredd, wagon inbound. ETA four minutes." I turn to look in his direction and I swear I almost see the corner of his lips twitch, trying for a long unused smirk maybe? **Don't strain yourself sir.** He crosses the space between us in a few long strides. He stops just short of personal space and nods, his stony expression soften just a little, so little it's barely noticeable but I see it. **Have I impressed him? Have I seriously managed to impress him?** He steps away and turns, expression fading back to its usual stoic glare, heading back down the alley, back towards the shop and our bikes. **Doubtful.** I glance one last time at the perps, hesitate then amble after him, in no real hurry to catch up to him just yet.

* * *

We're back on our bikes, back on the highway, the rain continuing to lash down on everything. We're en route to yet another incident, a crash this time, suspicious circumstances, possible DUI. He'd picked this one, I didn't say anything but a crash in this weather didn't really seem all that devious to me, **some people are just crap drivers**. My head was beginning to ache, the continual hammering of the rain on my helmet was starting to grate at my nerves. _Tap tap tap_. Never endingly dropping on my head. **Urgh! **I've lost track of how long we've been weaving through the traffic but it never seems to end. Left, right, between close vehicles, left again. It carries on like that for ages until we finally pull up to a cordoned off section of a single lane in the five lane road, vehicles still speeding past despite the rising smoke and twisted wreckage that was the remains of two cars and a van. The van and the smaller of the two cars had smashed into each other, merging together in a macabre scene of burnt warped metal and flesh, the remains of the third car was skidded further forward on its roof, its side nearly entirely ripped open. We dismount, approaching the barrier and crossing it, his pace drops just a little so that he's behind me. **Guess I'm taking the lead then? Well okay.** I lead us both over to the onsite first responders. Turning to eye us both, all I give them is an acknowledging nod.

"Seven for recyk. No witnesses of the crash itself but looks like that one" the medic points over towards the lone upside down car, "lost control and smashed into the van, which jack knifed and caught the other car in its wake."

"DUI?"

"Likely. His friend bought it but the driver managed to walk, or in this case run, away with barely anything." My eyes have drifted over to the two vehicles as I listen. Blood and brain matter was dripping out onto the tarmac, the flow of rain water pulling it towards a drain and mixing it with spilled oil. There were shredded pieces of flesh and sinew stretched roughly over the vehicles' exposed metal skeleton. It was close to being unidentifiable. Except for one arm sticking out from a crumpled rear window, bone protruding from skin. My stomach scratches at the back of my throat and I'm finally grateful for the rain as I feel a cold sweat break out over my skin. I'm staring at the hand, fingers curled tightly round something wispy and charred. I finally pull my eyes away and back to the medic when my mind finally registers it all. **That was a child's arm.** **It was clutching the remnants of a teddy bear's leg.** I control myself, rein my reaction in until it's only visible as a tiny grimace even while my insides contort and squirm. The nearest fire-fighter to me is the only one that I know has seen me turn a few shades paler but he keeps quiet, letting the medic continue giving us a sit rep. "Witnesses reported seeing the driver heading in that direction with a semi-automatic, sporadic shooting." He casually throws his thumb behind him. Over his shoulder, looking past the barrier and down into the slums beyond I can already see the muted glisten of bullet casings. I start walking, clamping my jaw and neck muscles to keep myself from looking in the direction of the upturned wreck as I head for the barrier beside it. But despite my attempt of control my eyes move of their own volition. I pause mid step before bringing my foot back and down, turning to face the wreckage and kneeling down. I'm nearly on my stomach flat on the road as I look into the driver's window, reaching out and in past the snapped wheel and bloodied seat.

"How long ago?" His voice is harsh but there's a distance to it, like his focus is elsewhere.

"Seven minutes tops. He'd be moving slowly from injury." I can almost feel the flinch of the medic as he moves back from Dredd and his scowl, one of the fire-fighter's answering for the former in his place with serious clipped tones. Again I hear the _plink plink_ of judge boots coming towards me, with the additional tinkle of tiny splashes from the layer of water across the surface of the road. He's stood next to my shoulders. The creak of leather as he moves. I nudge closer to the car, reaching further in, my grasping fingers stretching out for what drew my focus initially. The rain hammers on the car continuously, the wrecked car somehow amplifying the sound until my head's throbbing. **Please just be quiet for five fucking minutes!** My gloved fingers graze along the focus of my attention but remains just out of hold. I push myself in some more, now my head and my shoulder are in the wreck. Grunting in frustration, I throw my hand out at the item and finally get a tight grasp on it. _Creak_. I go rigid, freeze in place as the car groans metallically above and around me. My other hand claws at the tarmac behind me as I wriggle in reverse as quickly but as carefully as I can, out of the car. Once free, I draw myself up onto my knees and turn to find him knelt inches away, watching me expectantly. "I think we've a problem." I drag myself up to my feet and wait for him to follow suit before offering the contents of my investigating hand. His normal expression of being mildly irritated at everything changes to contained rage as he looks down at it, plucking it up from my open palm. He doesn't have to study it for long; he already knows it too well for his liking. I drag my eyes away from his face and down to the object clamped in his fist. _**A slo-mo inhaler**_.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I've already vaulted over the barrier and jogging towards the slums when I sense him drawing up into step beside me. Guns locked and loaded and ready in hand, we follow the trail of bullet casings strewn across the ground, walls occasionally decorated with impact holes. Contained rage was radiating from him like a bottle fire; the exterior was intact but there was tiny internal cracks fracturing out just under the surface. I keep quiet as we move methodically through the winding slums. **Powder keg would be a good nickname right now.** We pick up speed a little when we pass a homeless man riddled with bullets, the sound of gun fire stutters in the not too far off distance. A scream. I'm sprinting without realising it, getting ahead of him as I skid round a corner. Another dead citizen in the arms of a sobbing woman. I stop and step towards her but pause when I see he's already dead. **Nothing I can do now except catch the guy**. She looks up at me, desperation written all over her face along with uncontrolled tear streaks. I keep my face still, an unmoving hardness fixing my expression in place. She points away and down a narrower stretch of the slum. My eyes shift from her face to the directed path to see a discarded gun and then a distant silhouette hobbling out of sight. I'm sprinting again, vaulting and weaving around obstacles; both human and environmental. While catching up to the perp I can smell something strange, something other than the stench of the slums. It was bitter, like burnt sugar or vinegary tobacco. Coming full speed round the corner, I skid to a sudden halt and raise my gun, aiming straight at his back as he tries to climb a rusted chain link fence.

"FREEZE!" I start taking controlled measured steps towards him, keeping aimed at the back of his head. He slows, dropping back down to being stood on the ground. I study him briefly for a moment and notice that his left leg seems wrong, the lower half below the knee slightly twisted at a strange angle. He turns to face me, looking in my direction but seeing straight through me. **Still high I guess**. Even from the ten feet away that I am I can see that his pupils are dilated. **Probably doesn't even realise his leg's fucked**. He moves to step towards me but something seems to register and he hesitates, his face developing into utter confusion. My mouth opens to give him an order when Dredd strides past me purposefully, gun already holstered but fists clenched. Before I can do anything Dredd has the perp by the throat and slams him against the fence, I lower my lawgiver down to my side but keep it in my hand. I take a step back and then another, slowly, hesitantly turning to guard over the way we came. The last thing I see before turning completely is Dredd's fist slamming into the perp's twisted knee, a gurgle of screeching pain being choked off by the grip Dredd has on his neck. **He knows what he's doing, he knows what he's doing**. Scrunching my face up for a moment, I reach up with my free hand and push my helmet up a little, rubbing at my forehead and pinching the bridge of my nose, a headache suddenly rushing into the fore front of my consciousness. I try to ignore the sounds of thudding flesh and choking pain, occasionally punctuated with growled inquires or confused hurt murmurs, coming from behind me. The dull ache continues to drum at my head, swirling over the top of my head and across my forehead. I continue to pinch the bridge of my nose for a few moments longer before sliding my helmet back into place properly and dropping my hand back down to my side. The violent background noise dies down and is replaced with the hushed tones of Dredd radioing control and the click of cuffs being closed. _Plink plink plink_. He's walking over to me, breath slightly laboured. **Guess **_**questioning**_** the suspect can really take it outta you.** I pause for a moment after he's finished walking towards me and is stood next to me before turning my head to look at him as he glares off into the distance. He doesn't seem any calmer. His jaw is clamped even harder than usual, a suppressed snarl obvious across his lips. I keep quiet and wait; he'll speak when he's ready, or can without exploding.

"Small time distributor from a slum den around here somewhere."

"Doesn't mean they're producing slo-mo. Could just be the remains of a last bulk stock?" I pull the inhaler out from a pocket on my belt and take a closer look at it. The rough edge of an outlined love heart just above the breather section to indicate the Ma-Ma clan, scuffs all over the off white edges, a few last dregs of the maple coloured liquid clogged at the bottom. "It has the clan's mark on it." I hand it to him and wait for him to take it. Finally he turns to me and takes it from my out reached hand. As he studies it I turn to look back at the subdued perp. He's crumpled on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back, covered in drying blood and darkening bruises. Even though the man's in a state of near unconsciousness from the encounter with Dredd, I know that he'd managed to keep his temper under control, **otherwise he'd be dead, and messily too**. With that in mind I turn back to my assessor. The slo-mo inhaler gets stuffed in a belt pouch and he pulls his lawgiver free of its holster and checks it over. I follow suit, albeit apprehensively. He's taking the lead again, striding off back the way we came and then suddenly turning off down an alternate route, leaving me trailing behind after him trying not to seem like a lost puppy chasing after its master. He keeps weaving his way, not wasting any time or attention on anything other than the direction he wants to head in. Not checking side alleys, not checking faces as we pass them, not aware of the sensation of an increasing number of aggressive eyes tracking us. **Do I stop him? Do I try and get him to pause, breathe and get his head together? Do I chicken out of saying or doing anything because he looks ready to rip the next person's head off with his bare teeth? Do I even know his head's **_**not**_** in the right place anyway?!**

"Sir? Do we get a location?"

"Yeah."

"Idea on the situation we're walking into? Numbers?"

"Yeah." **Wanna share?!** I feel my forehead tighten into a frown and my jaw clenches as I glare at the back of his helmet, then I make myself take a deep breath and count. **One. Two. Three.** "Small time drug den. Around six perps. Possibly armed. Likely under influence."

He comes to an abrupt stop. His fist comes up into a halt signal before I manage a reply and with a swift flick of his hand, signals for me to take cover. I slide quickly into cover against a wall opposite him, flexing my grip on my lawgiver in readiness. I resist the urge to glance his way for direction or reassurance, instead opting to take a careful measured peep around the corner, studying the tiny mess of a shack packed among countless other shacks in front of us. It looked just like the rest to me, no signs, no guards, nothing making it any more significant from the duplicates it was uncomfortably sandwiched together with. **What've I missed?** I bring myself back around into cover and look to him, trying to keep my confusion from being blatant across my face. But gauging from the set of his rigid jaw, I fail. I hesitate, staying in cover as he steps out and towards the shack, carefully stepping towards the door, gun raised. I hesitate to step out of from the corner to cover him, hesitate as I feel something on the edge of my consciousness, stroking feathery along the very skin of my thoughts, my consciousness. I knew that feeling but couldn't place it. It was familiar but not enough to make a connection. I shake myself off mentally as I step out of cover to back Dredd up when I see the dull sparkle of light reflecting in eyes at the boarded up window. I slap his arm and gesture my fingers from my visor to the watchful window. He nods, continuing forward cautiously towards the door and I follow. Uncertainty creeps into my mind again, something telling me to wait, step back, get a grasp at whatever it is that trying to make itself known in the back of my head. The feather's back tickling at the edge of my awareness when we reach the door. **What **_**is**_** that? I know it, I'm sure I know it**.

"Ready rookie?" It's a hushed growl but to me it sounds like he was screaming, roaring it as loud as he possible can, making me flinch. He reaches out towards the door to push it open when I grab his forearm, stopping him.

"Something's not right. There's... something... I dunno,"

"What!?" He snaps back, but doesn't try to move, doesn't try to pull his arm free from my grip although he easily could.

"Just... _something_! There's something, familiar. Can't you feel it? Like a..." I look to his face, trying to see, searching what I can glimpse of his expression for anything beyond his single minded focus on the job in hand. **Can't you feel it? Like the ghost of a fingernail down your spine.** Then it clicks. "Shit. Mutants." The rigidity looses around his mouth as it sinks in, then the feathery presence turns to nails. Digging in and dragging down, roughly pulling me down into darkness, into unconsciousness. My mind barely registers the impact of my body hitting the ground, right next to an equally unconscious Dredd.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

_I'm in a corridor, endless and dim. The walls covered in grime and graffiti, and barely glimpsed gore in the edges of my vision. I know this corridor. I've been trapped here before, walking endless. There are no doors, no splitting off corridors, just forward or behind. My hands feel slowed, lethargic as I reach up to run my hands through my hair. Almost as if bond, the feeling if something rough and brittle prickles at the skin of my wrists. But all just a flickering sensation, ghosting in and out of consciousness, as if I'm only imagining the feeling. Or someone's restraining it. I'm being pulled down the corridor, my feet dragging along the floor as I refuse to move them of my own accord. There's resistance, I slow my progress but don't, can't halt it. _

_**Stop fighting.**_

_I focus, force myself to a stop. This is different. This isn't Anderson. I can never feel her in my head, I can never push her away, force things out of focus if I don't want them. They aren't strong enough, not as strong as her. Good. I focus all my mental energy into walking backwards, pulling a single door from my memory into the foreground in front of me._

_**Who's Anderson?**_

'_Fuck you that's who!' _

_A sudden distant pain slicing across my ribs, like remembering what it felt like get a nasty paper cut. I ignore it just as quickly. Instead, throwing myself towards the door and putting as much effort as possible into grabbing the handle and pulling it out. It resists, like I was trying to open it the opposite way to the hinges._

_**You'll get tired soon. Stop fighting.**_

_My hands move from the handle to simply pushing on the door itself, feet straining against the floor as I put my whole body into it. I don't stop when my feet start crinkling the concrete like loose carpet, I don't stop when my hands start sinking into the wood of the door like it were thick custard._

'_I'm going through this door.'_

_Just as the lights behind me begin to flicker, like a swarm of bees is silently frenzying over them, the door abruptly gives way and I tumble through, falling. I should hit the ground but I don't feel it, and it's too dark to see anything. The door is gone. The walls are gone. No ceiling, no floor, nothing. I cling to it, this nothing. Hold onto it like it's a piece of drift wood in the upturned ocean, digging my fingers into it was wave after crushing wave of thought tries to bully and barter its way in. Focus on the darkness, on the empty space, on the nothing._

_**She's blocking me.**_

_**Let me try.**_

'_Go away.'_

_Mental fists fly out, pushing, hitting anything and everything I sense that's near. I think I make contact a few times but unsure, like trying to remember what a long forgotten piece of fabric feels like to touch. I keep lashing out, keep fighting off the assault on my mind, on my sanity when I feel it. Something takes a hold of my wrist and grips. Choking off the blood and feeling from my hand, it goes cold and numb. The hold keeps tightening, pulling and yanking at my arm uncertainly, as though it isn't really sure it has me. I twist my wrist as much as I can and grasp back, squeezing back with tingling fingers, barely feeling._

* * *

'_Where the hell am I?!' I'm out in the wastelands, boots encrusted with dirt, partially buried in the sand being thrown against me by the strong gusting wind. It doesn't make a sound even as it blasts against me, grains of sand bouncing off my visor. I look in all directions before starting to walk, every way possible looking exactly like the rest. Just endless dirt and horizon and heat. Heat so palpable it was like drowning. I keep walking, the sun moves too quickly across the sky, but as I stop to watch it, it stops. So I start to move again and so does the ball of space bound fire. I keep moving, all I can do is move and hope to find something to understand, something known. 'Maybe you're on your long walk. Maybe the sun's fried your brain already.' Feet continue striding forward, tirelessly it seems. The sun sets, the moon rises, and I keep walking. Both solar bodies make their high speed circuits a countless number of times. My boots, uniform, helmet all seem to decay at speed too, flaking off me like old skin._

_**This one's easier.**_

_**Doesn't know what we're doing.**_

'_No. But I can hear you, creeps.' As I stop the sand rapidly opens up beneath my broken boots, sucking me down, sucking everything down; the sand, the sky, the light. Even as I'm dragged down I look for the voices, eyes still searching even as they're swallowed by the darkness. I'm falling. Limbs fly out instinctively to catch, grasp, save. The feeling of falling abruptly stops as my hand grabs hold of something. I hold onto it tightly. 'I thought grasping for your sanity was a figure of speech.'_

_**They're locked together.**_

_I pull at the thing I've grabbed, although I couldn't tell if I was pulling myself towards it or it towards me. It was soft and warm though, malleable under my harsh grip, but hard underneath, strong bones under soft skin and cloth. A wrist? Unexpectedly it twists and grabs back, slim but powerful fingers wrapping around my wrist in return and clasp on. I pull harder this time, wrenching the wrist and its owner towards me. My efforts are rewarded with a body slamming into me. I can't see still, can't hear, can't feel anything, not even the ground that wasn't under me. I keep grasp of the wrist, not wanting to lose hold of the one solid real thing I've found. 'Is this what losing my mind is?'_

'_You're not crazy.'_

_I stay silent. The voice, different from the other, altogether shouting and whispering, female and male, right in my ear and the other side of the world. The voice was familiar, I don't know if it was comforting or not, a memory long forgotten or something new, but any way I think about it, it was known to me. It's hurting to think this much, and exhausting to do anything beyond keeping hold of the wrist. _

'_You need to focus. You're not crazy. Now focus.'_

* * *

_There was light coming from him as he did as I said. His grip on my arm never let up but he'd loosened it up enough for blood to flow again, sensation to return. And in return I never let go of his wrist either. The world came into focus then, it was a wavering mockery of the slums we'd been in, like a half grasped memory, never paid enough attention to to really know but forced into recall. I've got a visible body again. Looking down I focus on the leather clad hand wrapped vice like around my wrist, and then to the body of the surprisingly close Dredd that was attached to it. He was mere inches away, lips set in a stiff unsure line, staring off away from me absently. _

'_Sir?'_

_His head turns to me, a ghost image of him echoes around him as he moves. As he looks at me, seeing through me for a moment, his grip tightens._

'_Dredd?'_

'_Rookie?' An echo from far off, that's how it sounded, even though he was right here next to me, barely a foot away. Close enough that if I wanted to I could reach out and touch the dark stubble that was sprinkled across his powerful jaw..._

'_What's going on Grimm?' Anger. Tinged with apprehension? Or fear?_

'_They're psychics. Not as powerful as Anderson though.' The rigidity in his face slackens as the fear is replaced with a calm acceptance, but the anger stays in place, boiling away under the surface. 'We're trapped inside our own heads.'_

'_So are you real? Are you really you, or am I imagining you? Or are THEY imagining you for me?'_

'_I'm me. I'm real. And so are you.' His grip remains constant on my wrist, as though he needs it as an anchor, or as completely forgotten and is oblivious of it still being there. 'They've locked our minds together.' He looks down at his hand as it clings to my arm. Hesitantly he loosens his grip, then slowly let's go completely and allows his arm to drop to his side._

'_So now what?'_

'_Don't know.'_

'_Well you've got more experience with this than me. Think.' I stay quiet and consider everything. Consider the place we've pulled ourselves into, consider whose head we're in. There's nothing but the imaginary rain pelting us and the stench of the fake slums. 'Rookie...? Rookie... Grimm!'_

'_There's nothing we can do! We get out when they let us out.'_

* * *

__Thank you so much for the reviews! You lovely people have kept me writing!

I literally squeak every time I see that someone's reviewed/faved/followed my story.

Anyway, I'll bugger off and get some more writing done and get updating.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

'_So we're stuck in here?'_

'_Yup.'_

'_Til they let us out.'_

'_Yup.' His head turned away, looking around our immediate surroundings. Probably trying to process this new, potentially permanent and almost certainly deadly situation._

'_So are they doing... this?' He nods, lifting his hand to indicate around us both._

'_No. No, that's me. I'm focusing on the memory of a location and this was the first thing that sprang to mind.'_

'_How?'_

'_I'm Anderson's crash test dummy, remember? They aren't as juiced up as her. It's taking a shitload of focus and energy but I'm managing.' He turns back to staring at me from under his visor. That same hint of being possibly impressed fleeting across his face but I'm not sure. _

'_So what'd they want? What're they planning?'_

'_Dunno. Doubt they have one. Probably panicked when we arrived and just boxed us. If they wanted something they'd have tried by now. Probably keep us separate.' _

_He nods. 'And what if they try to re-separate us?'_

_I think it over. Consider the possibility and the options that come with it. 'We stay together. Fight.' Before I can think over anything else his hand is wrapped around my wrist again and he's taken the tiniest, most subtle step towards me. The entire environment flickers out of focus for a moment, and then my hand reciprocates and grabs his wrist in return. I turn away, pretending to search the area, pretending to think, plan, anything. Pretending that I'm not completely confused by his hold, by the resolve being communicated through his grip, by the almost neediness that he stays close. Dredd is not needy! He, he's just making sure we stay together, that's all. United front, strength in numbers and all that. As much as I didn't want to admit to it but there was something intensely comforting about feeling the warmth from his hand seeping through the leather of his glove and my sleeve and into my arm. _

'_And what happens when you run out of energy?'_

_My head snaps back to look at him, matching his emotionless stare with my own. 'Then you need to cocoon yourself. Focus on anything, doesn't matter what you just focus on it. Should block them out if you're doing it hard enough.'_

'_What? And just leave you to them?'_

'_Yeah.' There was a sharpness, a finality to the way I say that that shocks him into silence, and myself. But I knew it was true, wasn't a damned thing he could do, once I've run out of the mental power to shield us both I'm wide open to them. Sure it was dangerous for perps to be able to see into any judges head, but I'm still just a rookie, he however was a whole other kettle of fish. He had years of experience, years of memories they could tap into, use against him, twist until it broke him down into pieces. Pieces they could shape into whatever shape they wanted. If a crazy judge is a time bomb, than a perp controlled judge was a nuclear holocaust waiting to happen. I wasn't as capable, wasn't as experienced, wasn't as deadly as him, not by a long shot and probably never would be. If they got him, Mega City One would be royally screwed._

* * *

_It may have been hours, it may have been mere seconds, but either way I was exhausted. There was nothing left of me but my wrist that he was gripping still so firmly. The slums had gone. My body had gone. All I saw was darkness and all I felt was numb. I could be falling or floating, frozen or flaming or in absolute agony, but I couldn't feel it, couldn't tell. All I knew, all there was, was his hand keeping hold of my arm. It was the only thing anchoring me in place, stopping me from mentally dissolving but it was only a matter of time, I could feel it, creeping across my skin, across the membrane of my thoughts. _

_**She's losing grip. We've nearly got the bitch.**_

_My hand felt dead, it was limp now, cold, numb at the edges. Did I even have fingers anymore? I think I see him turn to look at me, but there's nothing left to see, only a dead hand. A flare of panic and rage fleets across his face before a quiet reservation takes hold, and his grip loosens. He knows I'm gone, nearly gone. A stubbornness ingrained in his character makes him keep a hold of me for just a little longer. Eventually, hesitantly, however he lets go, watches that last bit of my mental projection disappear. I fade from his view, or did he fade from mine? It didn't matter, either way we're separated. As long as he's safe though..._

_**What about him?**_

_**He's blocking us. But who cares? We got her.**_


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

_Skin peeling, burning, flaking away in charred clumps. My limbs were being stretched out, joints popping and screaming with the strain of it. Insides writhing and freezing, jagged edges slicing each other into bloody ribbons. The faintest sound of screaming and rasping breath, like a barely heard echo from half a world away and then silence again._

'_What do you want!?'_

_The scream starts again as I feel my ribs being torn away from each other by dirty raggedy nails at the end of strong slime covered fingers. A rusty broken toothed saw slowly bites into the back of my thighs, chewing at the skin, hungrily gnawing its way down to flesh and muscle and bone. Images, emotions, memories flash through me in such rapidity that it feels like I'm choking, drowning in it all. I'm sat eating breakfast with other cadets. Then I'm falling up through a mega block as blood boils out of my empty eye sockets. And then I'm painting, colouring the world with suppressed emotions, the urge to hold a warm hand to my cheek, the urge to stamp on an unknown face until there's nothing left but paste. The urge to lay down, curl up, and simply give up._

'_What do you WANT!?'_

_Wave after thought after feeling. Pieces being torn away, pulled apart, shredded until there's nothing left of me but pain, unbearable, inconceivable pain. And then I'm whole again. Fresh, untouched, just so it can start all over again. I am so tired, but even more so I was empty, utterly vacant except for the pain. Was I really feeling this? Or was it just a forced projection? Did it even matter, either way I was breaking. But at least he's safe._

_**What did you tell him? Teach him?**_

'_Why? He giving you trouble?'_

_More searing, unidentifiable agony. The screaming starts again, closer, but this time it was peppered with choppy choked laughter._

* * *

_The slums are been fading for a while, slipping out of focus, the connecting streets getting shorter and shorter. She was losing focus, getting tired, even if the world around us hadn't have been dipping I would've known, by her grip or lack thereof. The strong pulse I could feel initially, pumping under my grip as I held her wrist in my hand, was barely noticeable now. I had to put all my attention into it to finding it. The slums had become flat, only visible in one direction; whichever way I was facing. Turning to her was a mistake, I shouldn't have looked, should've suppressed the urge to check on her but I did. There was nothing there, just blankness, a blurred semblance of the slums but no her, just the arm I was holding. Time to let go, focus on keeping my mind safe and secure. The only thing going through my mind over and over was the same two things; she's just a rookie, and what're they gonna do to her? But it doesn't matter. Nothing I can do except hold out until back up arrives, if it arrives. So I let go._

'_Focus Joe. Focus.'_

_I'm back in the wastelands, bare foot and boiling hot. Good. Focus on the heat, focus on the dirt under you feet and between your toes. Beads of sweat trickle down my face and neck. The wind picks up and brushes across my skin, my face but it's not cooling, its' stiflingly hot, like opening an oven door a mere inch from my face. I check myself over; I'm missing my helmet, my jacket, my boots, my gloves. All I've got is my vest and trousers clinging to my overheated skin, stuck fast with sweat. _

'_Should I walk or stand?'_

_Instead I just sit and sweat it out, just keep focusing on the wastelands, the dirt, the heat. Focusing on grounding myself, keeping myself locked away, guarded. Just try to outlast these bastards. I slip into a focused stupor, staring at the grains of dirt directly in front of me, trying to pick out details, put together patterns. It might have been hours, may have been minutes but it didn't matter I felt it now. The prickle of something else, someone else's mind touching mine. Nudging, prompting, coaxing, irritating._

'_What!?'_

_**Sir?**_

* * *

_There's nothing left. Absolutely nothing, except the dull echoes of pain but that's not me, not mine. I've forgotten how to feel, forgotten how to move, forgotten how to think. I'm broken, that much I know, that being all I know. A sinking, rising lump of consciousness in oceans of chaotic dirt and skin. A feather was running lightly across my mind._

_**Lu? **_

_There was a dull burn at the edge of my brain. There was something horribly familiar about it, something comforting about it. I don't want familiar, don't want comforting, don't want anything. I recoil from it, crawling away from it like a wounded animal into a corner waiting to die._

_**Lucy?**_

'_Shh.' Please just let me die, just let me fade away, like a drop of ink on the beach as the tide comes in. 'I'm so tired...'_

_**Lucy!**_

* * *

Suddenly it's really bright, even with my lids closed, my eyes are screaming for less, for dark. I can hear; boot steps, cuffs clicking closed, hushed rough tones. I can feel; the ground beneath me, bruises blooming across my body, blood drying on skin and cloth. There's the distant whine of lawmaster sirens, an extremely welcome sound as my eyelids finally rise to focus upon my helmet visor, and then the upon the grubby shack's ceiling beyond that. **Time to sit up judge.** Muscles and joints groan and protest at the request but I pull myself up until I'm sitting and look myself over. Initial assessment comes back as battered but workable. Looking around I see the perps already cuffed and down on their knees off to my left against a wall, and a unidentifiable judge standing guard over them, all seven of them. My ears finally hear the biggest source of noise in the claustrophobic drug den just as my head begins to turn, my eyes fixing on the little scene unfolding just off to my right. The rookie was surrounded, there were two paramedics crouched down around her tending to her, and Anderson knelt with the rookie's head in her lap. She sensed me looking, watching them and her head slowly rose, brown eyes meeting black visor. What expression was that?

"She's pretty bad."

It sounded so far away. My body was moving even as my head keeps going over everything that'd happened. Before I can register what I'm doing I've shoved the protesting paramedics out of the way and scooped her up into my arms, carrying her as carefully but quickly as I can out of this shithole, out into fresher air and twilight and drizzle. Anderson's walking next to me, keeping pace beside me. I don't look at her, just keep my eyes on the horizon, on the very close buildings and the choke space between them.

"How long were we under?" Even to my own ears my voice is harsher than usual, but to give credit where its due Anderson doesn't falter, doesn't flinch, doesn't lose focus or step. As my eyes flicker to the judge next to me, to the psychic, to the mutant that was just like the ones that'd captured and trapped us. Her face is blank, a trait she's picked up very quickly since her assessment day. **A good trait. The law can't afford emotions**. My eyes shift of their own volition and I find myself looking down at the limp woman in my arms. She'd had the brunt of those bastards attention. Her helmet was gone, exposing her young bloodied face to the world. She had strong dark arches for eyebrows, long lashes, the slightest hint of sharp cheekbones. Her lips were sliced up and swollen, bruised and torn. Her slim, small nose was plastered with now drying blood that it had previously spewed. Sweat was beading on her forehead and streaking down her temples and neck, dragging blood with it as it went. Short scruffy caramel coloured hair was soaked through, plastered to her face in places, the rest drooping limply below her hanging head. Her closed eyelids flicker sporadically, fitfully. **Wonder what colour they are?** Looking more I see that her uniform's in tatters, sliced in various places at various depths.

"We're not sure, four hours maybe?"

**Four hours of torture on both fronts. Fuck.** My jaw flexes as my teeth grind together at the concept, the knowledge of it all. Her lips twitch as a tiny whimper escapes them, a muscle spasm jerking down her spine causing her to arch slightly in my arms. The jerk causes fresh blood to flow from the slashes across her ribcage, stomach, and chest, to drip to the ground in gory little splatter puddles. Panic floods through my system and my feet hesitate, slowing me down. Anderson's watching me again, her eyes narrowing as she studies me, mental tendrils reaching out ever so carefully to probe, to query.

"We need to get her to a hospital. Now." I turn to give her the full force of my controlled temper. "And stay _out_ of my head, judge Anderson."


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

_Beep. Beep. Beep_. **Please be quiet, be still, I'm trying to die here**_._ _Beep. Drip. Beep. Drip_. **Oh jeez. **More things were slipping into my consciousness, into my awareness slowly. A digital beeping to my right, a quiet liquid dripping above me, the distant sound of people walking and talking as they pass. Hospital sounds. The sounds are like sandpaper on freshly exposed flesh to my mind. Just too much. I'm exhausted, so ready to give everything up. My senses were waking up, sliding back into place. It smelt like a hospital, a chemically clinical smell that clogs the nostrils bitterly and lingers even after you've left. **Damn I hated hospitals. Well, time for a mental check. **Sighing internally, I let my mind wonder over my body. Fractured or broken ribs, skull and legs, check. Lacerations across chest, stomach, ribs, thighs and face, check. Bruises over eighty percent of my body, check. So, basically everything hurts like hell. I let my mind retract back into place inside my skull, retreating away from the pain and physical memory but find no comfort there. My psyche's as broken as my body, recollection flashing over my mind's eye of all the forced thoughts.

"How's she doing?" **Cas?** She was whispering to someone, someone who'd been in the room the whole time, whose gentle even breathing I'd not registered, I'd ignored subconsciously. I stay still, although I doubt I can move in the slightest anyway, and simply listen and let my senses reach out tentatively. Two people were in the room. Close by. One was stood at my bedside to the left, the other was further away leaning on the wall to the left of my bed. Watching over, guarding. The familiar sounds of leather creaking as they move. **So they're both judges**. An idea creeps into my head without my permission but I bat it away. The hint of a breath across my tender face as one of them leans down and over me.

"Get up rookie, assessment's not over."

* * *

I'd been stood in the same place for long enough for my legs to ache, begging to be used, to move even if it's just to shift position. But I don't, I refuse my body's complaining and stay planted to the spot, watching the closed door and the movement of the patients and nurses as they pass by on the other side of the glass beyond the half lidded blinds. Standing and keeping a watchful guard. _Beep. Beep. Drip. Beep. _The combination of the quiet little sounds was almost deafening in the silence of the room, filling the clinical space. _'She'll be fine. No major breaks, just a bunch of fractures.' _She was breathing at least, but there hadn't been a flicker, no sign that she was still even in there. From the monitors her body was functioning just fine, strong heartbeat, steady lungs. _'She'll be ready to go back on duty as soon as she comes round. If she comes round...' _**If**. My teeth grind together again as my jaw clamps instinctively. I hear the approaching _plink plink_ of a judge's boots and adjust my footing, shifting so I'm not leaning on the wall anymore. Anderson quietly opens the door, nodding to me before gently closing the door behind her and stepping towards the rookie.

"How's she doing?" She doesn't look over at me, simply stands at her bedside and studies her blank face, eyes running over each cut, each bruise. When Anderson finally looks up at me I shrug, I'm not a doctor and her condition hasn't changed since she last requested an update so why waste words on a response. A wave of impatience crashes over me and I step towards the bed, lean down into the expressionless face and try to keep the bulk of the sudden angry frustration from resounding in my voice.

"Get up rookie, assessment's not over." Not a glimmer of a reaction, not a twitch of a lip, not a tremble of the eyelids. **Nothing**. I let a heavy breath huff out of me at the lack of response before straightening back up and taking a step back. Anderson steps forward to replace me, glancing back at me for a moment.

"I'll try and... I'll try and bring her back. She's pretty strong minded. And stubborn as hell. Stubborn as you!" A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, but I don't miss the fact that it doesn't reach her eyes. And then she's turning back to the rookie lying comatose in front of her and shuts her eyes, slipping into that place of intense mental focus that can push into another person's mind.

* * *

_There were those fingers again, the feather light touch of another mind edging into my own. Pain wouldn't exactly be the best way to describe it, it was like several layers of skin had been stripped, torn away, leaving me raw and tired. I didn't have the energy lift in me to hold an image, I just simply floated bodiless in darkness and light, the nothingness of blank thought. It was every colour that I knew, a few I didn't, and no colour all at the same time._

_**Lucy?**_

_The voice was distant, barely recognisable but I knew it, knew who it was. I was cowering away, cocooning myself into my own little corner of cuckoo land. _

'_Not now, I'm busy.'_

_**Lucy.**_

_She was getting pissy, that sharp edge to her tone cutting through the distance to graze at my tender psyche. I try to push it away, try to ignore it, to get back to drifting emptily in my head._

'_Don't use that tone with me.'_

_**Then wake up.**_

_I recoil away from the command, from the idea of everything. Recoil like a coward, like a fail._ "assessment's not over rookie..."

* * *

The sheer level of effort I had to put into cracking my eyelids open, to get them to peel apart was something else. And there she was, a really super blurry Anderson leaning over me. I groan with the tiring task of blinking to clear my vision and focus on her, seeing the relieved, albeit mildly grumpy, smile plastered across her face.

"How are we feeling?" I blink a few more times and then try to wiggle my nose, only to find breather tubes in them, which instantly make me wiggle it more. She's stood up straight sniggering at me when I finally realise what I'm doing and stop. "It's the drugs, don't worry." **Well that explains a lot**. I try to move my head, but after failing that I settle on moving my eyes in my head. I take the room in; it's dimly lit, clean and mostly empty except for the bed, the machines to either side of me monitoring various things, Dredd stood watching me from behind Anderson with an exasperated look on the bottom of his face, and my tattered uniform and helmet sat in a neat pile on a chair near the door. **Dredd!** A few more energy consuming blinks to clear my drug clogged brain. Well, to attempt to clear my drug addled brain anyway. Anderson finally stops sniggering when I manage to arch an eyebrow at her. As she does my assessor steps forward, causing her to step aside and eyes me from under his visor. I eye him right back, study his face, what I can see of it. A giggle erupts from my chest as I think about the nickname Anderson's given him. **Ol' stony face. Too right!** My eyes flicker to Anderson's face and I know she's heard my thought as she suppresses her own giggle by clamping her hand over her mouth, silently jiggling where she stands, shoulders bobbing up and down with it.

"Old stony face?"

**Oh crap. Did I...?**

"Yeah. You said it aloud alright." And now Anderson was in tears trying not to laugh, biting on her lip and nearly wheezing with it all. My face is already pale so I can't really say the blood drained from my face, but it sure would have if it could. The set of his jaw told me he wasn't amused, wasn't pissed off, just the usual cantankerous expression. **Maybe I got away with it.** I shoot her the hardest look I can muster then avoid his ever intense gaze. He leans forward just the slightest towards me, jaw jutting momentarily before he straightens up again and turns away heading for the door. He pauses when his hand reaches out and takes hold of the handle. "Get out of bed rookie. You got an assessment to finish." And then he's gone, door closing behind him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"You are a lifesaver Cas."

"I know. I'm awesome." I roll my eyes at her as I finish putting my new uniform on. Glancing at her I see her flicking her tussled blonde hair overdramatically and puffing her chest out proudly. **Oh brother. **She's smiling and laughing at herself even as she strutting around my hospital room like a boastful peacock as I yank my boots on.

"Yeah, don't overdo it. You only brought a bag of fresh leathers for me." But I keep the smirk anchored to the corner of my battered lips as I stand. My body protests to every movement I make, joints creaking like rusty old hinges. **Can't I sleep yet?**

"Nope. You have an assessment to finish." I huff at her in exasperation as I pull my helmet on.

"How much longer am I on for?"

"You've got three- four hours maybe. Give or take."

"Faaantastic. Well wish me luck." I head for the door, Anderson in my wake. Once at the door though I pause and look at her from under my visor. "...Why was Dredd standing guard in my room?" I look at her face with as neutral an expression as I can manage. And there it is again, that hesitant distant look on her face, eyes looking through me instead of at me.

"Well... he's your assessor. You're his assess-ee." She tries to shrug it off but I refuse to move, refuse to carry on and open the door, until I get answers. Real answers. I let my head tilt, lips purse, in mildly irritated consternation as I wait.

"Alright. Fine. I asked him a favour."

"And that was...?"

"That he be your assessor and keep an eye on you."

"Jeez Cas! What the fuck for!? I would've been fine with a regular!"

"But- "

"And I don't need babysitting!"

"Lu- "

"I thought I'd seriously fucked up somewhere when the cap told me Dredd was assessing me. I've been driving myself nuts trying to understand, to figure out what I'd done! I nearly chickened out, _judge Anderson_. I nearly quit!" She opens her mouth to say something else, anything else, but I just grab the door handle roughly and yank it open, restraining the snarl that's curling at my lip. I walk away from her, straight towards where Dredd is stood waiting against the wall next to the ward desk and the elevator. She's behind me, several steps behind in fact and walking slow, hesitating to catch up. I stop once I reach him and wait. I could practically hear her head hanging as she approaches us but I can't bring myself to look at her, not yet, not when I'm still pissed. When she comes to a halt I turn my head to face her slowly. **We'll talk later. Maybe. **I see a tiny nod from the corner of my eye, hear the softest sound of a gulp.

"Ready rookie?"

I nod once, not trusting myself to speak just yet. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off the wall before hitting the elevator button on the wall behind. All three of us stand and wait, the faint sound of beeping as the elevator counter goes up, my eyes watching it the whole time. Forcibly focusing on the digitised numbers counting up, until it finally reaches us at the thirty fourth floor. There's a gentle _bing_ as the doors open. Stepping inside, Dredd hits the ground floor button once we're all in, the doors close and it starts moving down. **Three judges in an elevator, I'm sure there's a joke here.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

We're out on our bikes again, on the mega highways again. In the rain again, albeit lighter. It was dark now, the dirty orange light from streetlamps lighting our way in evenly spaced pools. I was following closely behind him as we head to another incident. _'Multiple bodies found at Deforest Kelley block. Suspected homicide.'_ His voice had been tinged with something else as he said it, something other than the usual grumpiness, but I couldn't tell what, maybe I didn't want to. When we parted ways with Anderson and got on our bikes he seemed, anxious. Probably didn't like the idea of going back on patrol with an injured rookie that he hadn't decided on yet. Or maybe I'd already failed as far as he's concerned? I shake my head a little, mentally shrugging it off, it's not like stressing myself out by thinking about it was going to change his mind now anyway. The mega block comes into view before us as we come out from under a long bridge. He revs his bike, pushing the engine into further action, pulling off just a little faster as we head in a straight line, directly to the looming structure. I follow suit, speeding my bike up so I'm side by side with him as we draw closer. Before I can think about not dwelling on it all we've pulled up to the roadside in front of one of the mega block's entrances and dismounting. Even though its dark and raining there's still plenty of people around, still load of citizens crowding up the entrance, jostling to escape or get home. I walk beside him as we part the waves of unknown faces, ignoring the mix of expressions that are aimed our way, from hope to confusion to disgust, it's all aimed at us, simply because we're in judge uniforms. **Easier to hate a faceless thing than consider themselves lacking, I suppose.** Going down the few steps into the main foyer area it hasn't even been cordoned off properly yet, the onsite medic trying her best but constantly being bombarded by nosy voyeuristic citizens wanting the gory details. Our appearance dampens most of the crowds' enthusiasm, and a rough grab and throw round the scruff from Dredd quiets the few brave ones among them.

"So what we got?" I glance down at the fresh corpses as I ask, listening intently as I examine what I can see from under the medical sheets.

"Happened within the last ten minutes. That poor sap over there reported it soon as he tripped over them." She points away to a boy sat wide eyed and trembling on a bench with a blanket round his shoulders, just a teenager, no younger than fourteen. His mother presumably sat next to him with a comforting arm round his shaking shoulders.

"Tripped over them? How'd he miss this mess?"

"Half blind. Can only see in big blurs." I nod, a twinge of guilt rolling through me. **Poor lil fucker. **Dredd turns away from his place a little way behind me to my left and strides towards the witness, shoving people aside when they don't move, never faltering in his step.

"Well I guess that's a good thing... considering." I indicate the mess pooling to either side of me. It was vile. Pulling the sheets back I look at the corpses, there were chunks of flesh splattered around the main lumps that used to be two gangers. I didn't know the gang tattoos off by heart but it was unmistakable that they were gang tattoos. A lot of them too. Blood was pooling out from the chewed up stumps where arms and legs should be on the mangled naked torsos. Not pooling, pumping. **Jeez, the hearts are still going, really was fresh.** The medic must have seen that I was watching the gruesome little fountains. "They took a long time to die." Glancing up at her I see her shaking her head with a look of mild disgust. _Plink plink plink_.

"Kid doesn't know anything." I glance back at the kid as he leans into his mother's embrace and then at the ever stoic Dredd, nodding an acknowledgement before turning back to the horror scene in front of us. Again I find myself looking at the torsos, noticing the occasional tiny muscles twitching under paling skin. My eyes search further a field and find nothing. No blood trails, no bullet casings, nothing. I sigh, kneeling down to get a closer look at one of the bodies, forehead wrinkling in consternation as I hunt for an explanation, and coming up short.

"How'd the bodies end up here? Couldn't have been killed here, too many people, too many witnesses. Couldn't have been dropped, there's no impact damage to the bodies. Couldn't have been dragged, there's no blood trails." I look up at him, and he looks as lost for a rationalization as I do.

"Blitzer." We both look at her when she says that. I stand back up, nodding in agreement to her theory, turning to see Dredd do the same.

"Fits. Would explain the, nature, of the killing as well as the speed of it."

"What gangs are in the block?"

"The Judged, and the Red Dragons." She nods towards the bodies. "From the tattoos I'd say these guys were dragons." From the corner of my eye I can see Dredd standing stock still, just watching as I converse with the medic, letting me take the lead, trusting me to.

"Guess your lil tour of Peach Trees caused some uproar amongst the ranks." I gaze at him, seeing no change in the usual deadpan look on his face. A smirk plays at the corner of my lips for a moment before I turn back to the medic. **Does he usually make this much of a mess when he does assessments?** "Where do the gangs operate in this block? And here's another question for ya. Where're the heads?"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

We're making our way carefully to the Judged gang's thirteen floor den. Considering the time I wasn't surprised it was quieter, but it was too quiet, not a single sound, not even behind the closed doors we passed by. I look in his direction for reassurance, the painkillers from the hospital visit had finally worn off and I was feeling it, feeling the ache and extra effort I was having to put into every little movement. I look at him and saw the same posture, the same expression as ever and I don't know if it's because he's always on high alert, always wary, or if I'm just feeling anxious because I'm hurting, but it helps. **He doesn't get anxious or scared, he's Judge Dredd.** With that I straighten my own posture some, readjusting my grip on my drawn lawgiver. We've subconsciously started walking in synch as we turn the corner, knowing the door ten feet in front of us is the den, seeing the intense lack of a guard outside. Our boot steps are silent as we edge purposefully towards the door. Something makes him stop, which of course makes me stop, and we're both listening, although I'm not sure what for. And then I hear it. It was a scratchy scuffling sound coming from behind the door, like furniture being dragged around.

"They're barricading the door." He whispers but I hear, its quiet enough to travel clearly to me through the stuffy still air of the corridor. Even whispering his voice is rough, like coarse rock on satin or sand running over cold skin. We eye the door up again before continuing to edge towards it, guns raised and ready. When we finally reach cover at either side of the door we listen again, muffled voices working their way through the synthetic wooden door to reach our ears, along with the scraping sounds of more furniture being moved deeper in the room. After a couple of seconds listening I then look to him, and he looks at me. "Your call rookie."

I nod and then take a moment, drilled in training dragging itself up and passed the ever present pain. **Hi-ex or judge mine?** I lower my gun, letting go of it with one hand to reach into one of the pouches on my belt and pull a mine free, placing it carefully and silently on the door, pressing the timed detonator button, eliciting a faint steady beep from it. _Beep beep beep. Boom!_ The door blows inwards, splintering in half with the force, kicking the hastily piled up furniture in all directions away from the blast. Dredd swings though the now vacant doorframe into the apartment first, lawgiver aimed, and I count to five before following him in, gun ready as well. There are two gangers in the room; one hiding behind a kitchen counter, and the other ducking around one of the bedroom doorframes. I laugh internally as we move in near perfect synchronisation, Dredd turning to blow a hole in the face of the perp hiding in the bedroom as he peeps round from cover to look at us, and I roll, dodging a short burst from the semi-automatic the kitchen perp is wielding, using my own momentum to bring myself back up to my feet and putting two bullets in him; one in the chest and one in the head. The dust, blood vapour and smoke settle along with an uneasy silence. My eyes narrow as I listen. We turn to each other, both looking mildly confused at the lack of gangers, and then I hear it. Distant footsteps running down the corridor away from us, several footsteps. Dredd steps into the bedroom one of the now dead perps was guarding to investigate as I bolt out the door we'd just blasted our way through, looking down the corridor to see the distant shapes of several gangers sprinting away, turning to go down the stairs.

"Sir!" I've already bolting after them, legs pumping with adrenaline, but just a little short to dull the screaming pain shooting down my legs as I run, chasing the gangers.

"Rookie?" I hear him calling after me in query, hear as he kicks the front door of the neighbouring apartment open and follows after me at speed. I skid to a stop at the corner to the stairs, taking cover before peering round. I can hear them panting and jumping down the steps, shouting indistinguishably to each other, urging each other on, away from us. He comes up behind me, slapping me on the arm to indicate that we're good to go. "They'd cut a hole through to the apartment next door. Bastards got clever. Blitzer probably saw us, warned them when he went to collect the rest of his payment."

"That means he's probably with 'em. Guess they didn't wanna follow in Ma-Ma's footsteps and face plant from two hundred storeys." A smirk creeps onto my face again momentarily as I glance at him. The corner of his mouth twitches, a faint huff of a snort and a light nod. **My grud, was that... an attempt at a smile!?** The moment passes though as he steps round and passed me, aiming down the stairs cautiously before starting down them. And as always I follow. We're jogging down the steps quickly, determined to catch up with them, making sure to keep them in hearing distance as best we can. We takes the steps two at a time, moving swiftly and efficiently, co-ordinating with each other easily, like we'd worked together for years. It's only after travelling down three storeys that we stop and look at each other.

"They're heading for the ground floor, trying to do a runner. And we're not gonna catch them up like this."

"So we don't." He casually walks over to the elevator, pressing the button and leaning against the wall like he has nothing better to do, like we aren't chasing a gang and a contract killer. My eyebrow arches, a little chuckle jumping in my chest before walking over to him, gun hanging lazily in my hand as I look at the floor counter as the elevator makes its way to us. _Bing_. My grip reflexively tightens on my gun as the doors open but other than that I remain in the same relaxed pose as before. I step inside, hitting the ground floor button as I do, hearing the creak of leather as Dredd steps in right after me. The doors shudder as they slide shut, the elevator jerking slightly as it starts its descent. I look over at him as he stands still as a statue, arms relaxed down at his sides, lawgiver still gripped in hand though, glaring at the closed metal doors as if they were guilty of something. I watch him for a moment longer before the sound of distant gunfire draws my attention as we approach the bottom floors. Our gazes meet through our visors and then we're moving, both simultaneously switching into readied stances, guns already briefly but efficiently checked, raised and ready. Two more floors to go until we reach ground level. We both slide to opposing walls of the elevator, guns continuously trained on the doors, as we reach the bottom and the jerking downward movements of the little metal box stops. _Bing_. The doors shudder open and we glide out, boot steps silent as we check in each direction. He taps my arm and I turn to follow, catching the last glimpse of a fleeing ganger barging his way through a pair of swinging double doors.

"Are they heading for the basement?" There's no hiding the confusion in my voice as I head towards the doors. The ground floor is all but empty, only the occasional nocturnal citizen ambling this way and that, not paying us any heed. **But there was gunfire?** As we cross the open space towards the doors I hear a woman's scream drift down to us from a few floors above, instinctively making me look up in its direction. I take a quick look in his direction to see him ignoring the sound, continuing purposefully towards the door, a determined set to his jaw. We finally reach the doors, pausing before slamming our shoulders into them and barging through, lawgivers raised and searching for targets. Empty. Again, our feet fall noiselessly as we carry on down the corridor, the light dimmer than the rest of the mega block, the corridor's lack of use and traffic showing in the even grimier conditions than the rest of the building. The echoing scuffle of running feet reaches us and we move, swiftly reaching another set of swing hinged double doors. Dredd was on the left door, I was on the right when we both cautiously peep through the filthy round window on each of our adjacent doors. Gangers were skittishly hurdling into cover, some far more shakily than others. **Estimate of a possible twelve in total, should be fairly easy**. I flex my fingers, readjusting my grip on my gun as I look at my assessor and nod, and he nods back before bursting through the door, already firing and blowing the heads of two startled gangers that hadn't reach any decent cover. I trail in after him, firing as I head for a pillar to back cover behind, getting a ganger in the shoulder as I do. My side slams into the pillar, adrenaline pumping through my system, numbing the aches and pains of earlier, if only momentarily. Dredd has taken cover behind a tipped over work bench, systematically firing and ducking down when the gangers fire back wildly. As I peer round from my cover I see a perp that sticks out from the rest; he has no gang tattoos, dressed plainly in black garb, the most distinctive thing about him was the large array of throwing knives decorating his belt. That, and the large lumpy burlap sack he'd just thrown to the ground that was soaked in and dripping blood everywhere. **Guess we found the heads. **

"Sir! The perp in black!"

"I know!" He doesn't even look my way as he answers me, his tones clipped and sharp. I look over at the blitzer and the remaining gangers peppered around the room, not noticing the shadow of the man sneaking up behind me until just a second too late. The metal piping in his hands cracks harshly against my helmet, slamming my head into the pillar, eliciting a startled cry from me as my brain rattles around inside my skull. The impact sends the helmet rocketing from my head, hollowly bouncing off the ground before rolling away. And then his arms are locked round me, pinning my arms to my sides and squeezing, trying to push or pull me out of cover. The hard pressure from his arms making my already fragile ribs screaming out in agony, dragging the air out of my lungs sharply. Training instantly kicks in as my head snaps back, cracking into his nose before squeezing the trigger, blowing away the majority of his left foot. The asshole howls out in pain, letting go of me to fall down in a heap, clutching at his gushing nose. I turn on him swiftly, putting a well aimed bullet through his face, ripping through bloodied fingers to bite its way in and through his nose cavity. I turn my back on him before he even finishes flopping to the ground, folding out of my cover to kill another two gangers, Dredd having killed at least five while I was occupied. I slip out from behind the pillar and towards some crates near the work bench Dredd was ducked behind, barely dodging as two blades fly passed my face, glancing my ear and cutting a few strands of hair as they do. Ignoring the fate tickle of blood as it slides down my ear from the fresh graze I turn, my back to Dredd, to shoot to flanking gangers, riddling their torso with some short rapid bursts of fire. Three blades dig into the wood of the work bench near Dredd's head as I turn back to face him, but he was too occupied with some slightly more taxing gangers to notice. **How many more of these pricks are there!?**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

He was facing off to the left, angling away from the blitzer as he fired at the few gangers that were sporadically taking cover behind work benches and crates. He didn't see it, the judge helmet was great and useful in many ways, but it limits your peripherals, and right now it was definitely limiting his. He couldn't see the blitzer standing up several feet away, wouldn't see him flinging a blade straight at his throat, not in time anyway. The sudden burst of extra adrenaline in my system seems to slow everything down. I hear the sharp intake of breath as my lungs prepare to call out, to warn him but my body, my legs are faster and I'm moving. I run towards him, closing the few feet between us in no time but it feels like forever. I turn, angling myself slightly so that my shoulder barges into him and shoves him aside as I shout his name, and I see it. It sparkles in the fluorescent lights as it spins, like its cutting through the light itself and then it's gone. _Shink._ I don't feel it although my body jolts with the impact, I don't see it, it's out of my peripherals. Suddenly my lawgiver's too heavy, it drops from my hand like a thousand tonne weight but never seems to make a sound as it hits the ground. **Does it hit the ground if it doesn't make a noise?** Then the world's turning, shifting around me until I see feet, his boots coming down to stamp on a ganger's face, crushing skin and bone under it like it was made of tissue paper and jam. I see those boots twist on the spot, turning towards me, moving so slowly and so fast, running at me. The scene before me blurs and wavers, the lights growing dim. I can hear my heartbeat hammering in my ears and nothing else although I can still see the faint burst of muzzle flash. I can't feel anything although a part of me senses a twitching. And then nothing at all.

* * *

"DREDD!" She shoulder barges me forward as I'm shooting, putting my aim off, causing me to miss one of the three gangers I was aiming for, sending bullets flying into the wall instead of his head, chewing out chunks of cement instead of brain matter. Two go down, already dead sacks of meat as the other ducks down into cover. I roll with the impact into my own cover when I hear a third body slump to the floor. I couldn't hear a second lawgiver firing and my gut clenches, jaw tight and teeth gritted. **Come on rookie, don't be down**. I don't have time to check when the third and final ganger leap frogs over the crate and charges at me, throwing his empty gun away. He lunges forward, trying to flying tackle me but I twist, catching his arm and throwing him to the ground, sending my fist into his chest as he falls. Once he hits the ground beside me I bring my boot down on his face, hard, feeling the tissue and bones shifting, breaking under my foot.

"Rookie!?" I turn, pulling my boot out of his face and finally look at her, lying still with her head turned to me, looking at me with distant dead eyes. **Amber eyes.** And a knife stuck deep in her throat, a pool of blood falling from her neck and rapidly growing out from under it across the dirty cement floor, soaking into her hair. I'm running towards her, lawgiver in hand as a blade skirts passed my face, barely missing me as it embeds itself into the pillar behind me. My head whips round to look at the source and see the blitzer, he locks eyes with me for a long moment before ducking down around a pillar. I hesitate, looking down at her for just a moment and sighing. And then I'm growling again, lip curling up into a snarl as I leap over the crate I was using for cover and run, gun raised, straight towards the pillar he'd hidden behind. I slam back first into the pillar, on the opposite side to the blitzer, taking in a deep breath.

"Some fucking judge!"

He's trying to piss me off, get me to make a mistake that he can use against me. I lift my lawgiver and look it over before deciding to holster it, in exchange for pulling my standard issue combat knife free. I'm angry, I usually am but never this much, never this recklessly. I turn, twisting and sliding round the corner, knife up and ready to kill or defend. As I slide round the pillar I find him facing away from me, **too quick and easy, you don't get either creep!** I kick him hard in the back, sending him sprawling forward to the ground. As I step towards him passed the pillar slowly he scrambles to his feet, quickly composing himself, ready to fight. The startled expression on his ugly face melts to a hard arrogant one, pulling two more throwing blades from his belt, one in each hand and proceeds to perform some elaborate twirls and spins. **Dance all you like asshole, I'm sending you straight to hell.** I simply tighten my grip on the knife in my hand, watching him, calculating and letting well seasoned instincts kick in. In a flash he throws both knives, one a split second after the other, I block one with my own knife knocking it away and embedding it into a nearby crate, the other slicing across my arm, cutting through the leather to reach bicep before clattering to the floor somewhere behind me. I ignore it, not really feeling it as I lunge towards him, crashing my free fist into his stomach even as he pulls yet another two blades from his emptying belt. I slash down at his arm, making him drop one of the blades, gouging down deep enough to hit bone. He tries head butting me in the face, my helmet makes a slight cracking sound from the impact, but it doesn't work and I just head butt him back, harder. His nose and mouth practically exploding blood as I smash his front teeth out and compact his nose down crudely. I grab his wrist as he staggers back, pulling him into my knee as I jack knife it up into his groin. He cries out in pain, slumping down to the ground like a sack of wet meat. I step towards him, my lip curling up in disgust naturally, knife wielding hand lifting a little when the wall off to my left explodes with bullet impacts. I duck back behind the pillar, stepping away from the blitzer currently rolling around on the floor whimpering and cradling his broken groin. Peering round the pillar quickly I see that that two stray gangers have made their way into the store room, firing sporadically in my general direction but without any real conviction. Fear and lack of experience was making them next to useless compared to who they were up against. I take a quick look at my knife, and then at my main quarry as he continues to squirm on the floor in front of me, and then step out of cover for a moment, just long enough to flick my combat knife straight into the chest of the ganger that was hanging back and firing off. I look over at the other guy as he pathetically tries to flank me, thinking I can't see him as he comes round the back of the pillar. Turning suddenly, I punch him in the gut, knocking the air and lunch out of him before grabbing his neck and yanking him round head first into the pillar, a loud satisfying crunch resounding as his skull loses its fight with the cement pillar. The ganger's forgotten as he slumps to the floor, I've already turned back towards the blitzer, who's finally managed to haul himself back to his feet, fists raised ready although he's still pretty much bent double.

"Come on." Blood drips from his smashed faces as he spits out his defiant order. I glance over at her, still lying motionless of the floor a few feet away, all the colour drained from her face, bled out onto the ground beneath her, light sparkling grotesquely in the large pool of blood that was haloing out around her. I growl, another wave of white hot rage flooding through me as I reach down into one of the pouches on my belt. I stride towards him aggressively, kicking him in the knee, enjoying the crunch of a kneecap ripping free of its attaching tissue to slide down his shin, fist clenched round the newly freed contents of my belt pouch. As he falls, crying out in pain again I grab his throat, choking and cutting the howl off mid flow. I bring my other hand up to his forehead, slapping the device into its new unorthodox place.

"The sentence is death." He's clawing at his face even as I boot him away, his irate screeching drowning out the quiet beep of the mine timer as it counts down. I just stand and watch as he collapses to his knees just before the mine detonates, my eyelids barely flickering as it does, gore sent flying in all directions to splatter across wall and floor. There's nothing left above the waist, the chewed up charred mid section spewing blood and organs as it uncertainly slops down with a squelch, blood pouring out towards my boots, like red waves crashing against black cliffs. I just stand breathing, reeling my anger in, locking it back down as best I can, just barely like I also do. I can't bring myself to look at her, to go check on her, I don't need to, I know she's gone. Those amber eyes staring off unblinking lifelessly into somewhere beyond this cesspit of a city. **Damn well should be somewhere better, otherwise...** Everything starts running on autopilot as my arm comes up to my mouth, lips parting. "Control..."


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

_There she was, walking down the corridor of the halls of justice, hand coming up to her mouth as she tries to restrain a yawn. __**Must have just been training again**__. She seems to wake up a little when she spots me, altering her trajectory so she intercepts my path. "Hay." And there it was, a single simple word plainly said but always with those same tints of wisdom and mirth that made it so Anderson. I nod at her in return, planning on continuing my direction, keeping my steady pace, just walking passed her and finishing my day. "Dredd?" __**And there it is**__. I stop, knowing I'm not going to like what she says next by the sheepishness that she'd just said my name with. I sigh but carrying on walking, slowing my pace only by the smallest fraction, but she takes this as a 'I'm listening' and quickly falls into to step next to me. "Can I... can I ask you a favour?"_

"_Hmmm... I'm not gonna like this am I?" I watch her from the corner of my eyes, watch an nervous apprehension fall across her expression._

"_It's nothing bad I swear." There's a thick silence while I consider it, she's a big ball of trouble for such a little judge. I let out another huffed breath._

"_Right, so what is it?"_

"_Well... you know I've been training my psychic abilities, strengthening them. Well my friend's been helping me Lucy? Lucy Grimm? Well she's a cadet and she was meant to have her assessment day a few weeks ago but... judge Lex was meant to be her assessor." That catches my attention, eliciting a slight growl from me despite myself. __**That bent son-of-a-bitch!**__ "Well obviously after the Peach Trees incident she didn't get assessed. Anyway, she's been playing mental guinea pig for me without complaining once, and I was hoping- "_

"_You were hoping I'd volunteer to assess her."_

"_And keep an eye on her, yeah." Now I come to an abrupt stop, making her falter and turn to me. Studying her expression again I see a judge, a good judge, but also a concerned friend. My eyes narrow under my visors as I think. _

"_You expecting me to just pass her?"_

"_What!? No! I just want her to have a decent assessor. Do you really think I'd come to _you_ if I wanted to ask something like that?" Her lips purse at me as her face contorts into a 'do I look like an idiot?' expression. __**Just wants a decent assessor, huh?**_

"_Okay."_

"_Okay?" __She sounds surprised, probably expected me to put up more of a fight or want a better reason. Guess she doesn't realise that I trust her judgement._

"_Yeah."_

* * *

"Dredd?" I don't look at her as I stop walking, can't look, I'm still too angry, I could feel the rage boiling under the surface, choking my well seasoned control. But I can hear the taint of sadness that's edging her voice, she's trying to play it cold and emotionless like she knows is expected of her, of any judge, but she was her friend, her comrade and that's not something you brush aside so easily, not when the first time round anyway.

"I just wanna know..." I hear her slow steady intake of air, trying to lock herself down emotionally. Her mouth opens to finish her sentence, to ask the question but she can't, instead she just swallows hard and curses at herself under her breath. This time my dead drops, drooping down momentarily to look at the floor, at my boots, at the dried blood covering the toes in flakes.

"She was a pass."

**But she was a one-in-five.**

* * *

Well that's it folks!

Hope you liked it. Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think. R&R babies!


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